Egypt's Promise
by Quwinntessa Starber
Summary: AU. Quatre and Trowa are living the American Dream. Too bad America sucks sometimes. 3443


Quatre's face was strangely solemn, his voice just a tad on the worried side as he poked his head into the upstairs loft of their apartment. "Tell me you sold a painting today."

With a paint-covered brush in his hand, one behind his ear, and another between his teeth, it took Trowa a moment before he could answer with a large smile and excited eyes. "Would it help if I told you I sold two?"

The startled expression that crossed Quatre's face then only heightened the joy Trowa felt at catching his partner off guard. Suddenly, Quatre gave a loud whoop and rushed his lover, throwing his arms around him, ignoring the danger of the loaded paintbrushes.

Strong arms hoisted Quatre's light frame into the air and spun him around. When Trowa didn't think the laughter could get much louder, he gently set Quatre down, making sure to kiss his lover hungrily. 

Humor in his voice, Trowa questioned. "So, proud of me?"

"Oh Trowa, you did it! I knew you would. Didn't I tell you it was only a matter of time before your pieces started going like candy? And two! Two in one day! I knew you could do it!" Quatre laughed, hugging Trowa again, reveling in the security of the warm arms that surrounded him.

"I couldn't have done it without you. I would have never put my paintings in the gallery if you hadn't insisted. The best part of all of this is that Isabelle said the man that bought my pieces was from one of those auction houses and if my paintings fetch a good price they'll be back for the rest. The rest, Quatre! I can hardly believe this is happening!"

Quatre laughed giddily. To see Trowa so happy, to hear his warm voice so enthusiastic, it was more than he could have hoped for on a day like this. Shutting his eyes tightly, Quatre resolved himself not to worry his partner now; tonight was a night for celebration after all.

"I told you, you were wonderful but you didn't want to believe me. Now when I tell you you're the next Monte will you just believe me?"

Trowa smiled, leaning down to kiss Quatre roughly. "You have to tell me I'm good, otherwise you'd have to sleep on the couch."

"Hey! That's not true! I brought the bed into this relationship, you'd have to sleep on the couch!"

Trowa laughed heartily. "Yes, but I brought the sheets and you know how you hate to be cold."

Quatre grumbled good-naturedly. "Stupid Seattle weather! Whoever would have imagined it rained 252 days out of the year, and another fifty were cloudy?! It's just way too cold here."

With another kiss, Trowa released his partner with a soft caress to his face. "Are we going to celebrate?" The way he said it, the timber in his voice as he ducked his head to look up at Quatre through his lashes, had Quatre knowing exactly what kind of 'celebrating' Trowa had in mind.

"Oh, no you don't! We're going out to dinner! You've had a long day, and I've had a really long day, and some food would do us good before we trie--"

Trowa cut him off. "What do you mean you had a long day? Is everything alright?" There was such worry in Trowa's eyes and Quatre winced at the idea of dampening the mood with his news.

"Don't worry so much, we're going to be OK. Now, go change out of that paint stained shirt and into something really nice." Quatre had to turn away from Trowa's questioning look. "How about Angelo's? You like the pasta there and they have that nice wine you're always raving about."

But Trowa sensed something in the way Quatre was walking away, a strange slumping of his shoulders that hadn't been there this morning when they'd kissed goodbye in the parking garage. Trowa insisted on walking Quatre to his car every morning, just like he swore he would once they found a nice house in the suburbs.

"Something happened that you're not telling me. Quatre--"

"Really Trowa, everything's going to be alright. Now hurry up! If we don't get there soon we won't get to eat until ten or even later!" With a mad dash Quatre scurried to the spiral staircase that led down to the main floor of the flat, he didn't make it three feet.

"Quatre dinner can wait. I can tell something's wrong. What happened today?" Trowa had wrapped his arms about Quatre's waist, effectively trapping his partner from the escape he so obviously wanted to make.

With a sigh, Quatre just shook his head. "Trowa, today is a special day for you. My bad day will still be here tomorrow. Let's just celebrate tonight OK? We'll go out and have a nice warm dinner with candle light and romantic music, then come home and curl up on the couch, maybe read a book together. Then a nice warm bath with more candles and music before we go to bed and make love all night long. Doesn't that sound good?" There was a desperate quality to Quatre's tone, as if the smaller man needed Trowa to believe him, to believe that everything was going to be all right for this one night. Trowa wasn't buying it.

"It sounds wonderful, Luv, but I'd rather know what's keeping that sparkle out of your eyes. Why not tell me what happened?"

With a shake of his head and more force than was necessary, Quatre broke out of Trowa's grasp and stepped away before turning to look at him. "I don't want to talk about this anymore. Let's just go have dinner. Dress warmly, there's still slush on the ground from last nights snow. Imagine, snow in February."

"Most places still have snow in February."

"Well there wasn't any snow in Egypt."

"We were right on the equator. Now stop avoiding the question and just tell me what's going on."

A defiant light entered Quatre's pale blue eyes then and Trowa knew his lover was becoming angry. "I told you I don't want to talk about it tonight, Trowa. I'm going to go make the reservations."

Angry and hurt, Trowa watched as Quatre moved to the top of the metal stairs before suddenly stopping and cocking his head to the side. Quatre's voice was strangely off when he spoke next. "How much did you sell the paintings for, Trowa?"

For a moment he considered not answering, letting Quatre know how truly angry he was, but that seemed petty even to him and so he relented. "Five thousand." That got Quatre's attention.

With a quick turn his lover's wide and amazed expression was upon him. "Five thousand credits?! Trowa, that's incredible. Which pieces did you sell?"

Quatre seemed happier now, more at ease, and that fact gave Trowa even more pause. Hesitantly he answered. "I sold the two I did while we were still in Egypt, Sunlight on the Sand, and The Prince of Egypt."

Suddenly Quatre seemed almost sad, in a good way. "You sold, The Prince of Egypt. I really liked that one."

Trowa nodded. "I didn't think anyone would ever buy it, we priced it so high. But in a way I'm glad, it just means I now have more reason to paint you nude than ever before. Especially if you, bathed in the sunset, is going to pay for a vacation this year." And there it was again, that wince Quatre had been carrying around since he'd gotten home. "We…could use the money on something else if you want."

And then Quatre realized he was giving himself away. "No, no, a vacation might do us some good. We haven't been back to Egypt since…the company moved us to Seattle two years ago. Going home might be nice, if just for a little while." His voice seemed to trail off then and Trowa was even more concerned than before. But then Quatre seemed to shake it off. "Well, hurry up. I'll be down stairs waiting by the door with my coat on when you're done beautifying yourself." He gave a quick wink and then disappeared down the stairs.

With a sigh, Trowa debated letting the conversation drop. Quatre made it a point of leaving work at work, which was hard for the top sales rep in North America. But Quatre had always insisted that Trowa was more important to him than any job and refused to bring work home. At first Trowa had been fine with it, but there had been a dangerous period where he'd thought Quatre was ashamed of their unconventional family. Quatre never brought clients to dinner and never asked Trowa to accompany him to any of the required social events.

One night it had become too much and he'd snapped, yelling at Quatre and accusing his lover of being ashamed of him. It'd taken all night for Quatre to make him understand that that was not the case. Calmly Quatre had explained that it had nothing to do with them being together and more to do with the fact that Trowa hated social gatherings. He'd explained that he'd had no idea that Trowa had felt this way, and in all honesty, he'd kept it much a secret afraid it might be true.

But this past Christmas Quatre had come home with a bottle of champagne and an invitation to the company Christmas party. Neither himself nor Quatre were Christian but it just proved that Quatre had meant what he'd said; not that Trowa had doubted him after learning the truth.

Shaking his head, Trowa knew that Quatre would just stew all night if he didn't talk about what was eating at him soon. Resolving himself for the short fight to come, Trowa waited against the railing of the loft, looking down at his lover as Quatre made reservations for seven. When Quatre got off the phone, Trowa steeled himself and called over the balcony. "Now that we have reservations, and we don't have to eat at ten, will you please tell me what happened today?" He watched as Quatre's shoulders slumped.

"Trowa."

"Quatre please. I won't be able to enjoy myself if I know you're not happy. Besides, you'll feel better after you tell me what's happened, you always do." He thought he heard Quatre mumble something under his breath. It sounded very much like, "Not this time." 

"Quatre." He pleaded.

"Tom called me into his office today. I didn't…get the promotion."

"What?!" Quatre had been the company's top sales rep for the last three years, one year in Egypt, and the last two in North America. It was obvious that while Quatre was an amazing sales man, his talents lied more in sales management, and when the sales director had resigned, Quatre had put in for the position. There was no way Quatre shouldn't have gotten it.

"Hawks got the job instead. He's a good man, Trowa. He'll do a good job--"

"He's an asshole and you know it, Quatre! That man's about as opened minded as a dead cat! What possessed them to give him the job?"

And there it was. He saw it for only a fraction of a second and he knew it to be true, something wasn't right. With a shrug Quatre walked away from the balcony, back towards the bedroom. "Don't worry, Trowa. We'll be alright."

Trowa nodded, anger in his voice. "Of course we'll be alright but you deserved that promotion, Quatre. You've done everything but hand them the sales these past three years. We traveled here all the way from Cairo because they promised you this position was coming up and that you'd get it. You paid your dues as top rep for the last two years here, there's--"

"Trowa!" There was pain in Quatre's voice and Trowa suddenly stopped and took stalk of how much pain his lover must be in over this. "Please, let's just not talk about it anymore. I'll give you the…details tomorrow. Consider tonight a celebration/pity party and we'll be just fine." The smile on Quatre's beautiful face was so watery it looked as if it could wash away.

"Quatre Winner, do not move a muscle!" With that, Trowa tore down the winding metal stairs that had so attracted him to the flat with the loft half floor. He'd begged Quatre to take this apartment over the one with the Space Needle view. Quatre had thought that the view from the other apartment would inspire him but Trowa had insisted and with a little persuasion had been gifted with a key after a night of passion back in Cairo.

Skipping the last steps, Trowa's long legs moved him quickly so that he could, in only two steps, engulf his life partner in a comforting and loving hug. He felt Quatre melt against him, his soft breath warming his chest. "We'll be alright, Trowa. I promise we'll be alright."

Soothingly, he ran his hands through liquid light. "I wish you'd stop saying that, Quatre. Of course we'll be all right. It was just a silly job. Headhunters have been after you for the past year, and the only reason you've turned them down was because you thought you'd have this position by mid year. If this is how they reward their most valuable employees, then you don't need them. Those signing packages have been huge Quatre, just give notice and take one of the offers you've been given. It's only your sense of loyalty that's kept you from being the sales manager at a dozen other firms."

Suddenly, Quatre's grip about his waist tightened and a soft gasp of breath came from his partner. "Quatre?"

"Do you mean that, Trowa? You wouldn't mind if I didn't have a job for a little while? I'm sure I'll find something quickly. But…but we might have to move again."

Above him Trowa smiled at Quatre's worry. "You've never liked it here anyway, not enough sunshine for my desert prince. Someplace warm perhaps, maybe California or even back to Egypt."

Trowa wasn't prepared for it when Quatre pulled away from him. He watched with concern as his lover moved silently to the couch and nervously played with the throw that rested on top. "They…they didn't just not give me the promotion, Trowa. They…fired me today."

"What?!" That was impossible!

But Quatre continued, pain and worry in his voice. "It seems I don't--how did Tom put it--'uphold the company standard,' or something like that." Quatre's face was down but Trowa could hear the threat of tears in his voice.

"What the hell kind of excuse is that?! Quatre, what in the world was Tom--"

Softly, Quatre beat him to the question. "The Christmas party."

Confused, Trowa asked, "What does the party have anything to do with it? That was two months ago!"

He watched as Quatre looked up at him, a pained smile on his face. "Oh they covered it up with some silly error I'd made in a margins calculation but it was pretty clear after Tom told me the 'standard' thing."

Trowa just shook his head.

"It was you, Trowa, well, us actually. It seems only straight guys are capable of upholding company values." Quatre smirked but there was no light in his eyes.

The reality of everything crashed into Trowa like a ton of bricks. "They fired you because of me. They fired you because I asked to go to the Christmas party."

Like lightening, Quatre was beside him. "NO, Trowa! This isn't your fault and I'm sorry if I made is sound that way! Those bastards at headquarters found out I was gay and that was it. It wouldn't have mattered who I took the party, if it wasn't a woman then it didn't matter."

Trowa shook his head. "If I hadn't yelled at you and accused you of being ashamed of me this never would have happened; you'd have gotten the promotion and--"

"No, don't do that, Trowa! You didn't do anything wrong by asking to come with me. I wanted you to go so many times with me. I'll admit I was a little afraid that something might happen because of it, but I never expected this. We have a right to live however we want to. I wanted you to come with me to the party, and you wanted to come, so we went, end of subject."

"Except it cost you your job, Quatre, your job! God, how could I have been so stupid?"

Firm hands encased his face and drew his eyes down to stare directly into Quatre's. "This is not your fault, and it isn't mine either. A bunch of close-minded idiots at headquarters did this. Tom told me he was getting pressure from above and I believe him; I don't think he would have done this otherwise. But this is not our faults'. We knew being together wouldn't always be easy, but we decided five years ago that the risks were worth the rewards. I love you, I'll always love you, and no stupid job is going to change that. 

"You said it yourself, I'll find another job. Things might be tight for a little while, but with five thousand in the bank and our other investments, not to mention some money I put away you don't completely know about, we'll be fine." And then Quatre smiled and the world didn't look quiet so bleak to Trowa. "We may not be able to eat at Angelo's for a while after tonight, but for tonight, lets just pretend that the worlds a great place where you sold two beautiful paintings and I'm taking an extended vacation, alright?"

With sorrow in his eyes for his lover's pain, Trowa nodded shallowly before being drawn into a loving kiss. "I'm sorry, Quatre."

"Now no more of that! We've got twenty minutes to get to Angelo's and you still haven't changed. Come on, I'll even pick out our clothes. I think that dark blue cashmere sweater and a pair of dark slacks would look wonderful on you tonight." And with that, Quatre led Trowa away from the main room and back towards their bedroom.

They dressed quickly, and Trowa found he couldn't stop touching Quatre, offering soft caresses of comfort and strength when he could. They drove quickly to the restaurant and talked quietly, their mood subdued but not destroyed. By some unspoken necessity they ate quickly, both feeling the need to comfort each other physically in this time of joy and sorrow.

When they got back to the apartment, Trowa went to find the candles. It took him a good five minutes to find the vanilla ones Quatre liked so much, the kind that would float in the oversized whirlpool tub in the private bath. Locating the box, he found a book of matches and returned to the living room to get some wineglasses and nonalcoholic champagne from the kitchen. He found Quatre sitting on the couch staring at the TV.

Anger rushed through him at the thought of what those horrible men had done to his Quatre. His partner was strong, so much stronger than he looked, but Quatre was also gentle by nature, and this horrible crime against him would surely strike at his heart.

"Quatre," he waited until he held his lover's eyes. "Don't think about it anymore tonight. We'll wash the day away and then worry about it all tomorrow." He smiled in the hopes of getting Quatre to follow. "I may even let you watch me paint tomorrow. You're always bugging me that you want to see something from start to finish. I think grotesque business men impaled on spikes will be a good theme for tomorrow's painting." But Quatre didn't laugh at the joke, only stared stunned at Trowa's rapidly bewildering expression. "Quatre?"

Quatre's voice was awed when he spoke. "Trowa, do you remember that company in Cairo that contacted me a few months ago? Remember they offered me that huge package but said I only had two weeks to decide? They called while we were at dinner. Tom called their main office and told them I'd been let go for ridiculous political reasons. They called to offer their condolences and to offer me twice what they had in November. Their exact words were, 'Mr. Winner, if you sign with our company, know we don't have 'political' problems.' Then they invited you--yes you--to come with me to tour the company and have a mini vacation on them! Trowa, it's a sales management position! And in Cairo! We could go back to Egypt!"

But Trowa only smiled, the genuine kind that lit up his face and put that tiny crinkle line above the bridge of his noes. "That's wonderful, Quatre. You can tell me all about it tomorrow. Now come with me, we have some celebrating to do."

And with that, Trowa gently propelled the excited and still amazed Quatre into the steam filled bathroom.


End file.
